


Worth

by chocoholicannanymous



Category: Glee
Genre: Character Death, Future Fic, M/M, Not Blaine Friendly, Not Klaine Friendly, Post-Series, blaine is not a good partner, bland lighthousefucker, canon compliant up to 5x19, if you like blaine then this is not the story for you, like seriously, not for the klaint of heart, the author accepts no whining about blaine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-01 19:44:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6533899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocoholicannanymous/pseuds/chocoholicannanymous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Disclaimer: I own nothing except an overactive imagination and way too many plotbunnies.<br/>Please note that this story is VERY Blaine/Klaine unfriendly. I obviously can't tell anyone not to read it, but, you've been warned.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Worth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Obsessivecompulsivereadr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Obsessivecompulsivereadr/gifts).



> Disclaimer: I own nothing except an overactive imagination and way too many plotbunnies.  
> Please note that this story is VERY Blaine/Klaine unfriendly. I obviously can't tell anyone not to read it, but, you've been warned.

 

**Worth**

 

_Home, sweet home._

Kurt's drained – it happens when you spend a week working your ass off, barely sleep, and top it off with a transatlantic flight. Oh, and when you have to arrange for last minute transportation because for some reason, your husband doesn't come pick you up at the airport as agreed upon. (Oh, and Kurt's five calls? Sent to voice-mail.) So it's not exactly strange that there's a bitter tone to that “home, sweet home”.

Yes, he's happy to be home. Ecstatic, even. Just, once he walks through the door he's going to have to deal with Blaine, and **that** is not something Kurt's happy about. Arguing takes so much out of him, and right now he's got nothing to spare.

For a minute he's even tempted to turn back around, find another cab, and go spend the night at a hotel. Just so he can get some rest and peace.

Only that's ridiculous, paying for a hotel when he's got a perfectly good apartment only two steps away. Also, he knows that regardless of everything, if he doesn't come home as planned Blaine's going to go ballistic, and the ensuing argument will be even worse than what's waiting now.

So he takes a deep breath, straightens his back, takes those last two steps, and unlocks the door.

“Blaine? I'm home!”

Once there would have been a “honey” in that, clichés be damned. Only these days Kurt leaves it out more and more often, as their arguments become more frequent. It's petty, maybe, but Kurt refuses to sweet-talk Blaine when heading into a fight.

Once the door's closed and locked behind him Kurt sets his bags down, removes his coat, and just relaxes for a bit. The peace he feels at being home might not last for long, but he's going to enjoy it for as long as he can.

Which... Is apparently less than a minute. _Dammit_. The air in the apartment is stale, like Blaine hasn't opened a window in the entire week Kurt's been gone, and it smells like old cigarette smoke. Plus, when Kurt sniffs the air, there's an underlying stench of something rotten.

He sighs, curses under his breath, and walks to the kitchen. On his way through the living room he scowls at the empty beer bottles littering the table, and again at the overflowing ashtray. Not only is smoking not allowed in the building – it's even in their contract for heaven's sake – but Blaine knows Kurt hates the smell of cigarettes. (It's not even about the damage the smoke can do to his skin – it's because it's not uncommon for Kurt to bring home clothes from work, and those absolutely cannot smell like cigarettes, or anything really, when he brings them back.)

It's becoming increasingly clear that Kurt's husband has been doing quite the table dancing while he's been away – and by the looks of it that might not even be metaphorical.

One look at the kitchen is enough to make Kurt want to cry. The counter is messy, the stove's stained with burned spots, and the sink is full of dirty dishes – and Kurt's not willing to bet that a few of those messes aren't mold. And the smell, oh god, **the** **smell**.

He pushes open the window, trying hard to only breathe through his mouth, and once again considers spending the night at a hotel. It's looking like Blaine's not home, and Kurt sure as hell doesn't want to be either, not like this. There's no way he's going to be able to sleep without cleaning up.

But. That job isn't going to be any less revolting tomorrow – rather the opposite – and Kurt simply can't justify the expense of a cab and a hotel. Not when he might have to pay a fine for Blaine's illicit smoking, and not when he's beginning to reconsider marriage. _This_ , he thinks as he stomps towards the bedroom to change, _was not what I signed up for_.

The truth is that the shine on his marriage has long since been dulled. It had seemed like the right thing to do, back in the day – get back together with Blaine, accept his proposal, get married. Just like it had seemed right to agree to leave New York behind so Blaine could conquer Los Angeles.

“Conquer”. _Hah!_ As if. If anyone's conquered anything in the eight plus years they've spent in LA it sure ain't Blaine. Kurt had been the one to work two, sometimes three, jobs to make sure that there's always been enough money to pay the bills and eat. He'd proved himself, slowly but surely, moving forward step by step until he'd gotten an actual paid job at a fashion magazine – and then continued up the ladder.

Meanwhile Blaine... Well. Blaine hadn't done too badly during the first two years, when under June Dolloway's protection. But afterwards? Kurt can list Blaine's paying gigs in the last year without effort, can probably do the same for the five previous years as well.

There are a lot of words that can be used to describe Blaine, but if Kurt's honest with himself (which he rarely is, because he's loyal, okay) “success” isn't one of them.

The sight that meets Kurt as he opens the bedroom door is almost enough for him to scream outright. There are clothes all over the floor, the room stinks even worse than the kitchen – something Kurt wouldn't have thought possible, but yes, it does, a _nd is that vomit on the floor?_ – and the nightstand is covered with beer bottles, lube, and an open box of condoms.

And the bed, well, Blaine's sprawled out across the bed, apparently dead to the world. Their whole apartment is in need of a thorough cleaning – no, **sanitation** – Kurt was abandoned at the airport, and Blaine's sleeping, like he doesn't have a single thing to worry about.

The rage that bubbles up inside Kurt is hot, coloring everything red, and he has to bite his lip to hold back that scream. It's not just this, even if that's more than enough, but a culmination of **everything**.

It's a thousand shopping trips after twelve hour shifts, because even if Blaine's got the time he can't be trusted with the groceries – he'll come home having spent a week's worth of money on three days worth of food.

It's having to work those twelve hour shifts to begin with.

It's having had to give up NYADA to follow Blaine – because Kurt might love his job, but he loved NYADA first.

It's years and years of living on a budget because Blaine can't, and Blaine doesn't have a steady job, and surprise surprise Blaine's parents won't help out after he dropped out of school. It's endless Sundays spent cleaning up after whatever party Blaine felt necessary to throw.

It's all of that, and more, and so Kurt's definitely not gentle as he reaches out and shakes Blaine awake. Or tries to. Because Blaine's not reacting, is stiff and cold and heavy and...

Kurt reaches again, hands still shaking but no longer from anger, and finds Blaine's wrist.

 

It looks like he'll be spending the night in a hotel after all.

 

By the time Kurt stumbles into a hotel room it's technically not night anymore. He'd had to leave what feels like a hundred statements to a hundred different people. Then there had been all the calls. Work, to explain why he wouldn't be able to make it in today; Blaine's parents, to tell them what had happened; Cooper, his dad and Carole, to tell them; Mercedes, Rachel and Sam...

He'd gone to the hospital to recite Blaine's medical history, and hand over copies of insurance papers, and to have a doctor tell him about possibilities and probabilities. He'd talked to the police.

He's so done.

Everything happens surprisingly fast after that. The coroner makes a ruling, the police as well, and the Andersons ask to take Blaine back home with them. Kurt agrees, and just like that all the arrangements are on them, not him.

 _Soon_ , he tells himself. It's been a long time coming, but soon it'll be over and done with officially.

 

The funeral is, as funerals often are, difficult. Kurt has to force himself to not act like he's made of stone, and ends up drawing on memories from his mom's and Finn's funerals to call up tears. When he steps on the plane back home it's like being let out of a cage, and when Kurt relaxes his whole body follows suit, almost as if someone's cut the strings holding him up.

Sitting in his new apartment – which has nowhere near as fashionable an address, but is much more suited to Kurt's temperament and budget – later that night, sipping on a glass of wine Kurt counts his losses. Or lack of, really.

Yes, Blaine's dead, leaving Kurt a widower at 29, but. He'd said he was done, and he'd meant it. Blaine really should have taken him seriously. He never had, but. He should have.

 

O---o--o---O

 

It had started with a call from Kurt's bank, a manager wanting to talk to him about his options. “Beneficial loan” was thrown around a couple of times. It had made no sense. Sure, he lived on a very strict budget, but that had its reasons. He had money – he just wasn't using it.

Only it turned out someone was.

His savings account had been emptied. Twenty thousand dollars, gone. According to records, he'd been the one to withdraw the money, just as records said it had been him trying to sell off some of the stock in his portfolio. (Hence the offer of a loan instead.)

It hadn't exactly taken a genius to realize what had happened. The culprit had to have had access to Kurt's codes and ID, and probably his computer, and all in all that only left one option. Blaine. Blaine who always chafed under Kurt's budget restrictions, but never could be bothered to find a steady, paying job. Blaine, who'd spent an unusual amount of time out lately.

Blaine, who Kurt never had told about his savings – all in agreement with their prenup – but who had access to everything if he wanted.

It had been a good thing, Kurt thinks, looking back, that Blaine hadn't been home when that call had come in. The fact that Kurt had had a couple of hours to calm down had quite possibly saved Blaine's life. Oh, in the long run it had obviously not made a difference, but.

At least Kurt hadn't been arrested for murder then and there.

Small mercies.

Kurt still has problems believing how Blaine had reacted when confronted with an accusation of theft. Normal people – or so he believes – would at least show some shame, but not Blaine. Oh no. He'd stood there, defiant, and told Kurt that yes, he'd taken the money, and no, he wasn't going to return it. He'd spent it. On recording a CD, of all things.

(Apparently the fact that the CD June had paid for him to record had flopped completely had just been a fluke, a glitch in the system. Clearly a second attempt, without the high-class producer, and the songwriters, and the money, would do so much better. How Blaine could say any of that and not choke on the manure is beyond Kurt, and was back then too.)

And getting him to admit he was wrong had been as futile an endeavor as usual. In the end Kurt had just thrown his hands in the air and asked why.

“If this was so damned important to you, then why the hell didn't you talk to me? Ask me for the money?”

“Because you wouldn't have given it to me!”

Kurt had just stopped and stared, losing steam. Blaine on the other hand had just powered on.

“You knew how much I wanted this, how important my career is to me, and instead of giving me the money you were just hoarding it. Selfish, that's what you are.”

And just like that Kurt had found his voice and his momentum again.

“Selfish? Me? I've been there for you every step of the way, Blaine! I've supported you, emotionally and financially **for** **years**. You wanted to go to LA, and I gave up NYADA and vogue.com to follow you. You were too focused on trying to make it as a performer to get another job, so I picked up a second one instead.

“When June lost interest and dropped you, I was the one to make sure you had a roof over your head and food in your stomach. I was the one to find an apartment, and pay the bills, and do the shopping, and cook, and clean, and tell you that obviously everyone who turned you down were idiots, and you stand here and call me **selfish**?”

Blaine's face twisted into that much too common, and highly unattractive, rage-pout as he spat out that it was his parents who'd found them the apartment they were in now, and Kurt found himself wanting to squish his husband under his heel.

“Yes, because our old one wasn't fancy enough to suit their precious baby. Not that they cared about the fact that our rent went up, oh no. That was left to me, as usual.

“And even so, that doesn't excuse the fact that you stole money from me, Blaine! Do you even understand the kind of trouble you'd be in right now if I hadn't covered for you? People go to prison for less!”

Kurt still remembers the sly look that had flashed across Blaine's face, still remembers the realization that Blaine had counted on Kurt to cover for him. He also remembers trying to appeal to Blaine's better side – hoping even after everything that he had one.

“I wasn't holding on to that money for me, anyway. It was meant for our future, remember the one we talked about? Our dream? Finding a bigger place, in a calmer neighborhood, having kids... **That's** what I was saving up for.”

Eight years of squirreling away every cent he could, of budgeting and scrounging, and denying himself things so they could have a family. Eight years of carefully investing some of his savings, while never ever touching the core of them, those very twenty thousand.

“The money you stole?” Because damn prettying things up, theft was theft, even in a marriage. “That was from Finn's life insurance. Carole gave it to me to pay for a surrogate. It was meant to give us a baby.”

For a while he'd thought he'd reached Blaine, but no. Instead he'd been treated to a rant about how Finn had seen Blaine's talent, and wouldn't have minded him taking it. And then, adding insult to injury, Blaine had blurted out the words that had turned Kurt's rage into a white-hot thing – that still does.

“I was thinking about our future too, Kurt! Why can't you get over yourself and see that I'm investing in that? This record, it's going to be my big break, you'll see, and then you can quit your job.”

“I'm sorry, what? You think I'm going to give up my job? To do what, exactly? Be your housekeeper full-time? I love my job, and I'm not giving it up. I'm done giving up what I love for you. In fact, I'm pretty much done altogether. Done paying your bills, done babying you, done being your housekeeper, and your doormat.

“Things are going to change here, Blaine, and I do mean now. I know I said you could have until next year to try and make it in showbiz, but I've changed my mind. Your time's up – at least on my money. If you want to continue going on auditions, and take on practically non-paying jobs just to be seen, that's fine. As long as you start paying your way.

“And don't think for a minute that you can get around that by stealing the rest of my money. I've made sure you can't lay a finger on anything else. Plus, you're going to pay me back every cent of the money you already took.”

Blaine had exploded, had shouted and ranted, and when Kurt refused to back down – for what had to be the first time in their (too many) years together – he'd pushed Kurt hard enough to send him into a table before storming out.

And for once Kurt hadn't chased after him.

 

Blaine had stayed out the rest of that day, as well as the night, before stomping back in at the end of the following day, pretending like nothing had happened. He'd been ready for a fight, for sure, but when Kurt also had pretended like nothing Blaine had relaxed and seemed to think everything was back to order.

Oh, the fool.

Kurt had spent that time going through their apartment from top to bottom, finding all of Blaine's little hiding places, and a lot of dirty secrets. Including a small package of white powder.

Being in the fashion industry has taught Kurt more about drugs than any after school special ever could, even if he refuses to use them himself. They're all around, passed around like cake at a child's birthday party, and everyone knows how to tell good product from bad.

Which also means knowing how to sabotage it.

It had been nothing to mix Blaine's drugs with a little special something, guaranteeing to give them an extra “kick”, before putting them back and making everything look undisturbed. After that all Kurt had needed to do was hope that Blaine was smart enough to not touch the drugs when Kurt could find out, but instead wait for, say, Kurt's upcoming work trip to the Paris fashion week.

And Blaine, for once, had done exactly as Kurt had hoped.

 

O---o--o---O

 

No, Kurt truly hasn’t lost much of anything. Blaine, yes, but he’ll argue (if only to himself) that that is more luck than loss. As for everything else...

He'd gotten several extra days off from work, paid of course, first to recover from the shock and then for the funeral. Blaine's life insurance had given him a tidy sum, both replacing the money Blaine had stolen and making up for at least some of the years Kurt had spent financially carrying his husband. And on top of that, in an almost ridiculous move, an artfully grieving June Dolloway had begged to buy Blaine's recordings, in order to “honor his legacy”. That had been a huge boost for Kurt's finances, though truth be told they are recovering quite nicely on their own now that Kurt isn't supporting two people on one salary.

He'll get his dream soon, he thinks – maybe even sooner than he'd hoped for before all this had begun.

In the end, Blaine had turned out to be worth a lot more dead than alive. Of course, Kurt thinks, that would have been true even without the money.

 

~ The End ~

 

**Author's Note:**

> While Glee still aired I was asked how I would write a klaine breakup while adhering to canon up to that point. This story plays with one of the scenarios I listed, though I guess *technically* they don't break up here.


End file.
